


Anything you say, Commander

by HereBeDragons



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Action/Adventure, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fantasy, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:59:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HereBeDragons/pseuds/HereBeDragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ankha Cousland finds Nathaniel wandering the Vigil in the middle of the night, she is instantly suspicious. But when she and Nathaniel venture into the darkness together, they find some things that were surprising, and some that were not, and also discovered something neither of them could ever have expected.</p><p>This story was written for the lovely Sionid, in exchange for some gorgeous artwork she did for me of Loghain and Rhianna. Many, many thanks to Zimrathon for beta advice, especially with Nathaniel’s voice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

‹›‹O›‹›

With a gasp for breath, Ankha sat up straight. 

They were coming, they were almost here. She needed her sword, needed to fight them. The sickly sweet scent of blood filled her nostrils, and her ears rang with the clatter of their footsteps in the tunnel nearby. 

Her sword. Damn it! Where was her sword?

She felt around, and her hands met not the cool stone ground of the Deep Roads, but something soft and finely textured … 

Oh. 

She let out the breath she’d been holding, and her shoulders slumped as awareness dawned: it had been a dream. She wasn’t underground, and there were no darkspawn here. She was in Amaranthine, in a huge four-poster bed in the small, cozy room that had once belonged to Delilah Howe. After arriving at Vigil’s Keep, Ankha had claimed this room rather than the master bedroom. It was unthinkable to spend even a single night in the room Rendon Howe had once called his own, to sleep in the bed where he had slept. 

After her breath returned to normal, Ankha laid down again, and studied the pattern in the ceiling above her head. This was nothing unusual; if anything, it was rare for her to sleep through the night without at least one nightmare that forced her to claw her way out of the Fade. It was not likely sleep would take her again anytime soon, but she was well accustomed to spending half the night awake.

Tonight, though, the thought of laying here in the dark and staring at the ceiling was vaguely distasteful. Perhaps she would get up and do something instead.

Tea. That’s what she wanted. Not only would its comforting warmth be welcome, but the excursion to the kitchens would kill some time. Perhaps long enough for her to grow sleepy again, or for the new day to dawn. Either way, it was more inviting than the thought of remaining here and memorizing the whorls in the wood above her head. 

She glanced at the window. Not even the first threads of daylight had begun to appear, which meant it was probably sometime between two and four, too early for even the kitchen staff to be up and about their morning duties. Was this a comfort, or not? The promise of a trip through the keep without having to speak with anyone was comforting, although the thought of the dark corridors, and the dimly-lit kitchen at the end of her journey, was somewhat less so.

After she strapped a dagger to her calf - she never went anywhere without it, never - she pulled on a pair of trousers, and one of the thin linen shifts she wore beneath her armor. It wasn’t decent attire by any means, but she certainly didn’t expect to encounter anyone else between here and the kitchen. And it was still so warm in the keep, as the thick stone walls held in the heat of the previous day, the thought of putting on anything heavier was unpleasant. So, she slid her feet into a pair of soft slippers, and decided she was dressed well enough. 

Ankha’s eyes were already adjusted to the dark, so she didn’t bother to light a candle before she eased open the door to her room, and padded silently out into the hallway. The stones were cool, but not uncomfortably so, through the thin fabric of the slippers, and as she had hoped, the keep was entirely silent. No voices, no footsteps, no glasses clinking. Just silence. 

She made her way downstairs, and into the large central hall. For a moment, she had to stop and gain her bearings. The large kitchen was one floor below, through one of the doors to the right. But which door was the correct one? They’d only been here a few days, and even though she’d been a guest here several times as a child, her knowledge of the layout of the keep was lacking. Probably because the children had usually been encouraged to play outside; Arlessa Howe hadn’t been fond of noise. Ankha hadn’t minded; she enjoyed playing outdoors, and it had been easier to avoid people she didn’t want to see, like Arl Howe, who gave her strange looks, and the oldest son, Nathaniel, whom she avoided not because he was unpleasant, exactly, but because something about his smile had made her feel warm and slightly on edge … 

Nathaniel. 

Oh, Maker. She’d thought herself beyond being surprised by anything at this point, after the many, varied, and extremely unpleasant surprises she’d had during the Blight. But finding Nathaniel locked up in the gaol cell beneath the keep had genuinely caught her off guard. 

_Click_

Somewhere behind her, back the way she had come, a distinct sound of metal against metal rang through the hall. Like a door latching shut, perhaps? Or unlatching?

Ankha crept to one side of the room, and pressed herself against the wall as she reached for the dagger. 

At the far end of the room, one of the shadows darkened and stretched, and then moved silently into the hall. The size of a person, but Ankha had long since learned not to take anything for granted. Just days ago, this place was overrun by darkspawn, including one that could talk, so she gripped the dagger in her hand, comforted by its familiar weight, and waited as the shadow drew closer. 

Whoever - or whatever - it was, it seemed not to be aware of her presence, and continued moving steadily toward the front entrance of the keep. A patch of moonlight beamed through one of the room’s tall, narrow windows, and as the shape passed through, Ankha saw it was not a darkspawn after all, but a person. A person whose profile she recognized. 

“Nathaniel?” Her voice was soft, but still echoed through the empty hall. 

Nathaniel startled, and stopped in his tracks. 

“Who-“

“It’s me. Ankha.” She stepped forward, toward him, but didn’t come within arm’s reach. She still wasn’t entirely sure she could trust him. His appearance in the main hall at this time of the night certainly didn’t do anything to gain that trust. 

He didn’t speak; he just stood staring at her. The moonlight glinted off the blade of the dagger he held in his hand. 

“There’s no leaving the Grey Wardens, you know,” she said dryly. “If that’s what you’re trying to do. You might be able to sneak away from here, but you’ll never be able to outrun the taint that’s already in your blood.” 

“That’s not what I’m doing,” he growled, voice pitched low. It curled through her like smoke, raising goosebumps on her arms, and she tightened the hand on her dagger.

“Isn’t it?” 

“No.” 

Ankha waited for some further explanation, but none was offered. “Well,” she asked, “just what, exactly, are you doing, then? Because it certainly looks like you’re trying to sneak away in the middle of the night. Not that I blame you. But I don’t recommend leaving. Not like this, not yet. I’d be forced to track you down - and I would track you down - and you would deeply regret anything that came afterward.” 

“I told you, I’m not leaving.” 

“Then what are you doing?” 

He let out an audible breath through his nose, but didn’t reply. 

Ankha stepped closer. She still held her dagger, but kept it at her side. She didn’t want him to feel threatened, but still wasn’t entirely sure her own life wasn’t in danger. 

As she stepped into the patch of pale moonlight, Nathaniel’s gaze dropped, taking in her attire: the thin linen shift that clung to her body, slightly damp with sweat. She struggled against a ridiculous urge to cover herself up. Nathaniel was a grown man; surely he’d seen a woman half-dressed before. No need to overreact.

After a moment, he looked away, shaking his head as if to clear it. 

“Then what?” Ankha repeated. 

“There’s just something … something I wanted to do.” 

“Yes, I gathered that much from the fact you’re wandering the keep at night. But what, exactly, is this something?” 

He let out another breath. “I’d rather not say.” 

“That is not an option.” 

His eyes flashed, as they locked on hers. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“I am in command here, Nathaniel. Don’t forget that. And don’t make me regret the decision to spare your life. I’m still not convinced it was the right thing to do. And now I want to know what you are doing sneaking around the keep in the middle of the night. What is this something you intended to do?” 

He stood straighter and looked away, and for a moment, it seemed he would refuse again. Then his shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes briefly, before meeting hers in the dim light. 

“I want to go into the dungeons, underground.” 

When he fell silent, Ankha crossed her arms in front of her chest, and stared at him, one eyebrow raised. She didn’t need to verbalize her desire for more details. 

Again, he let out a loud breath. “I wanted to …” He shook his head. “My father used to spend a lot of time down there. I thought to look for things that might have belonged to him. Correspondence, perhaps.” 

At the mention of Rendon Howe, she struggled to keep her expression neutral. She hadn’t expected Howe to bring up the subject of his father again in her presence. Not ever again. It was something of a sore spot between them. 

“I thought I made it clear last night at dinner that I intended for us to all go down together and search those sections of the keep, starting tomorrow.” 

“Yes, I know. But I thought, well … to be honest, I don’t know what I expect to find down there.” 

“Proof of your father’s villainy? Letters you hoped to suppress?” 

His eyes flashed. “Whatever of his may remain down there rightfully belongs to me, as his next of kin.” 

“Not really. I’m the arlessa here now. And, considering what happened in Highever, I have an intense interest in any correspondence that might explain your father’s motives in killing my family.” 

“And what if you find evidence that your father really intended to betray Ferelden? That he was dealing with Orlais? Will you allow that to come to light, or would you seek to ‘suppress’ any proof of his villainy?” 

She breathed through her anger. “My father did nothing to betray Ferelden. But if he had, yes. I would allow it to come to light.” 

“You say that with such confidence, but I wonder if you really mean it.” 

“Well, there’s one way to find out, isn’t there?” She stood a bit taller, wanting to impose her authority on him, in spite of the height advantage he maintained. “We’ll do this together. See if your father really did leave correspondence somewhere it could be found.” 

“Now?”

“Why not? That’s where you were headed, wasn’t it?” 

“But what about you? You must have been on your way to do … something.” 

She shrugged. “Tea can wait. Do you want to do this or not? Because there’s no way I’m going to let you go down there by yourself.” 

“Don’t trust me?” 

“Not really. But more to the point, there could be darkspawn or Maker knows what else down there. Sergeant Maverlies suggested some of the creatures could have been trapped when the tunnels collapsed, after Dworkin set off his charges. So, give me ten minutes to get into my armor, and we’ll go down there together and see what we can find.” 

She sensed more than saw the dismissive shrug of his shoulders.

“Anything you say. Commander.” 

‹›‹O›‹› 


	2. Chapter 2

‹›‹O›‹› 

Vigil’s Keep was ancient. No one really even knew how ancient, just that it had been here since the first barbarian tribes made Ferelden their home. How far down it went beneath that ground was a mystery, as well. In the few visits she had made to the Vigil during her childhood, Anhka had never ventured underground; the arlessa had forbidden the children from playing down there, but even if it had been allowed, the thought of those ancient tunnels below he ground had unsettled her. 

Descending into them now, as an adult with sword and dagger drawn, was no less unsettling. Especially with Nathaniel at her side, bow in his hand. This might prove to be a monumental mistake, perhaps even a fatal one. She was not yet convinced he didn’t intend to kill her; this might be his golden opportunity to do so. How easily he could put an arrow between her shoulder blades and claim it had been an accident. 

But her curiosity was piqued. What if there was correspondence here belonging to the arl? If there was any way to find out more about what happened, and why, she needed to know. Right now, all she had were her memories of that night, and Howe’s cruel words just before she ran him through with her sword. 

“ _The last thing your father saw was your mother licking my boot._ “ 

Anger surged in her chest, and she pushed it away. Now was not the time to get distracted. 

“Do you have any idea what is down here?” she asked. 

“No. My mother never allowed any of us to play down here.” 

“Yes, I remember. But I thought …” 

“You thought what?” 

“Well, children don’t always do what their parents tell them. I thought you might have snuck down here a time or two, out of curiosity.” 

He grunted, or perhaps it was meant to be laughter. “No. It never really occurred to me to break those sorts of rules, although I suspect my brother came down her from time to time. He never told me anything about it, though. And I never asked.” 

As they descended a set of stone steps to the first of the levels below ground, she felt the familiar tug in her belly, like a thread pulled tight.

She stopped, and turned toward Nathaniel. Sensing her gaze, he glanced back, one brow raised in an unspoken question as to why they had stopped. He couldn’t feel them. It was still too soon after his joining. 

“Darkpawn, down below,” she whispered, though there was really no point in keeping quiet. They could feel her as keenly as she felt them. 

Half a dozen darkspawn greeted them when they entered the room, but only hurlocks and genlocks, no magic users, and thankfully, none that appeared to have the ability to talk. It was short work killing them, and then Ankha glanced around the room. It appeared to be a storeroom - crates lined the walls, and a variety of statues stood at attention around the room. It was difficult to tell if they were meant to be decorative, or merely being stored here. There were humans; perhaps members of the Howe family from times past, and one or two that looked Avvarian, judging by their armor. There were also dragons, unlike any Ankha had seen before, with three heads. They were carved out of some sort of greenish marble, their long necks and sinewy bodies wrapped around the columns that supported the ceiling. 

Nathaniel began to search through the crates, and Ankha was on her way to join him when movement caught her eye at the far end of the room. 

It was a mabari hound, badly injured and most likely not far from death. The creature’s fur was matted with dirt and dried blood, its kaddis faded. At her approach, the dog tried to lift its head, managing only a few inches above its damaged paws before it gave up, and collapsed back to the floor with a low whine. 

“Poor thing,” she murmured as she knelt beside the dog. “How did you get in here?” With gentle hands, she rubbed the dog’s forehead soothingly, and ran her fingers through the thick fur around its neck. Attached to the dog’s collar was a tightly rolled piece of parchment. 

A scroll? What in the world? 

She unfurled it. The writing was sloppy, nearly illegible, as thought it had been written in haste. 

_The darkspawn came out of nowhere, and I heard the sounds of fighting up above, so I have taken refuge in the lower levels of the keep. Please, if you find this message, please help me. I don’t know how long I will be able to hide from them. ~ Adria_

“Nathaniel,” she called. “I think you should see this.” 

He crossed to her side and took the note. His brow creased as he read it, and his eyes grew wide. 

“Adria,” he breathed. 

“Do you know her?” 

“Yes. She … she’s lived here as long as I can remember. She took care of us - my brother and sister and I. She was like a mother to me.” He looked up and caught Ankha’s gaze. “We have to help her. We must save her.”

“We will.” If she’s still alive, she added silently. Ankha put a hand on his shoulder. She half expected him to pull away, but he didn’t. ”We’ll find her.” 

Any search for personal papers was set aside, and, weapons drawn, they began to search the rest of this level. They found no sign of Adria or anyone else in the wine cellar, or the old library. When they descended into the dungeon, however, they were greeted by a flurry of hostile activity.

Several figures rushed at them as they entered, taking Ankha by surprise. She’d had no warning; they clearly weren’t darkspawn. Instead, they were human, dressed in ragged clothes, but as they came close, Ankha saw the corruption of their flesh. Ghouls. People exposed to the taint and turned into walking horrors half alive and half dead. Although any taint they carried was too faint for her to detect, the stench coming off of them was at least as foul as that of the darkspawn, and they fought no less desperately for having been human in the very recent past. 

Once again, her sword and dagger did their work, as Nathaniel’s arrows whizzed through the air, and in only a few minutes, the ghouls - former prisoners or guards; it was difficult to tell which - were all dead. Genuinely dead, this time. 

“Oh, thank the Maker!” 

Anhka was startled when a man’s voice called from across the room.

There will still prisoners - human prisoners, and untainted by the look of things - locked away in one of the cells. Two men, who looked filthy and scared, but otherwise no worse for wear. 

“What,” she asked, “did you two do to end up here?” 

“It was nothing, really,” one of them replied, his voice ragged and breathless. “We was caught poaching, that’s all. But what else were we supposed to do? All the crops were shipped off south to feed the army that fought the Blight.” 

“And you two didn’t join the army?” 

“Someone had to stay behind and protect the women and children,” the second man said. Ankha eyed him a bit more closely. He didn’t have the look of someone who was interested in protecting anything but his own scrawny behind, but that hardly mattered now. “And now we’re locked away in here, and those monsters tried to get at us but they couldn’t figure out how to unlock the door. Please, please just let us out. Whatever we’ve done, surely this is punishment enough!” 

“We don’t have time for this.” Nathaniel’s voice was hardly more than a whisper, but its urgency was palpable. “Let’s just let them out, and get moving.” 

He was right. Ankha glanced around, and spotted a ring of keys on a hook on the wall. 

The locked opened with the second key she tried. “You two get out of here, and keep going. If I see you again, I’ll be forced to ask more questions, and none of us want that to happen.” 

“Yes, ser,” the scrawny man said, almost panting in his hurry to be out. 

“Thank you ser. You’ll not see either of us again, and that’s a promise.” 

As the two men made a hasty retreat back up the stairs, Nathaniel tugged at her arm. “Let’s go,” he muttered. 

Ankha turned to him and nodded once, and they continued their search. They came to a locked door, and Nathaniel pulled out a set of lock picks he had tucked into his boot. 

“Do you have any idea what’s in there?” she asked. 

“None at all. But darkspawn don’t usually lock doors, do they? Maybe Adria was able to hide herself away in here.” 

The lock opened with a soft “click.” 

They descended a short flight of stairs, into a roughly round room constructed of bare stone, a few statues guarding the space. Steps continued down to the floor of the chamber, where niches carved into the walls held sarcophagi which looked ancient - Avvarian, judging by the stonework. A balcony ran around the level where they stood; niches here also held stone coffins. 

“What is this place?” Ankha asked. “It looks like a crypt.” 

“I suppose that’s what it is. As far as I know it’s been here since the Avvars built this place. Now I know why my mother always forbade us to play down here. But, it looks like a decent place to hide.” He stepped forward to the edge of the steps leading down, but stopped at the edge. “Adria?” he called. “Adria? It’s Nathaniel - are you here?” 

Ankha thought she heard a whisper echo back at him - not a voice, perhaps, but something that sounded more like the slither of fabric against stone, or perhaps the scrape of a shoe on the floor.

“Adria?” He called out again, louder, but there was no answer. The hairs on the back of Ankha’s neck bristled. Something felt … wrong here. 

“I don’t think she’s here,” Ankha murmured, not wanted her voice to echo in the dark chamber. Something was here, but it wasn’t darkspawn, and it wasn’t this woman Nathaniel wanted to find. “I don’t think we should disturb whatever is slumbering here.” 

“But I thought I heard something.” Nathaniel descended two of the steps. “Adria? Is that you?” 

“Nathaniel, I don’t think-“ 

A rush of air ruffled her hair and chilled the skin of her cheek, and a figure appeared out of the darkness beside her. Not darkspawn, but an impossible looking thing of dark-stained bones, wearing rudimentary armor: an animated skeleton. It took a step closer, filling he air with the clatter of bone against bone. 

Maker damn it! 

With sword drawn, it charged her, and she lifted her blade to parry the blow. Sparks flared in the dark air as she struck with her dagger at the creature’s ribcage. These things were best killed by fire, but with no mage present, that would not be possible. Instead, she would have to cut them to pieces the hard way. Behind her, Nathaniel grunted and swore. They were under attack from all sides. 

She danced away from another charge, and realized just in time that a second skeleton had appeared behind her. With sideways steps, she moved so the wall was at her back. Now, both of the skeletons moved toward her, their tarnished, pitted swords difficult to see in the dim light. 

Damn it. How many were there? Yes, coming down here by themselves, just the two of them, might have been a mistake, and not because of the possibility of Nathaniel’s betrayal. 

She felt, more than saw, the sword slash down toward her head. She pushed all thoughts aside, and allowed her body’s instincts to take over as she raised her sword to deflect the blow. Before the creature could recover, she twisted sideways and slashed with her dagger, then lowered her sword arm to swipe at the other opponent, aiming for its neck. She failed to decapitate it, but her sword landed on the thing’s upper arm, snapping bones and driving the creature sideways, out of range to make an easy attack. 

Again, a sword flew toward her, and she ducked out of the way, then charged in, stabbing at the skeleton. This proved futile, as the point slipped between bones and did little damage. Frustrated, she drove it even farther in, charging close enough to lift her arm and strike the thing as hard as she could with her elbow. The blow landed on the joint between the jaw and the skull, knocking the creature’s head down at an angle. She surged backward, withdrawing her sword just as the second skeleton attacked. The sword point drove into her back, just below her shoulder blade; her leather armor slowed, but did not stop it  completely. She cried out, as much from surprise as from pain, and spun away from the attack, slashing out with her sword as she turned. Her blow knocked the creature backwards, up against the wooden ledge that went along the edge of the balcony. With an angry roar, she charged, pushing the thing with both hands so it flew backwards, limbs flailing as it fell down and hit the stone floor below with a sickening crunch. 

She turned just as her first opponent tried to bring its sword down on her again. Blocking the blow, she drove her knee upward, shattering one of the creature’s thigh bones. Then, she turned enough to free her blade from the parry, and slashed out, as hard as she could, at the creature’s neck. This time, the blow landed where she intended, severing the vertebral column, and sending the skull flying off to one side. As the body collapsed onto the cold stone, Ankha glanced around for Nathaniel. 

He had dropped his bow and descended the stairs, and drawn his sword along the way. Now, he was on the first level of the chamber, fending off two of the creatures. She hurried down the stairs and impaled a skeleton with its back turned toward her. She yanked up with the sword, and lifted the thing off the ground. Bones cracked as she used her own weight and momentum to push the thing aside. Nathaniel slashed at his other foe, and it fell backwards, toppling over to lie still on the stone floor. Ankha freed her sword, and one more blow to the creature’s neck, severed its head and left it lying motionless as well. 

She panted, filling her lungs with each breath, and looked around. All was still now, and five skeletal corpses littered the ground. 

“Thanks, Commander,” Nathaniel said. “I … well, to be honest, that was the last thing I expected.”

“Nor did I,” she agreed, glancing around. There appeared to be nowhere a human woman could be hiding. “I don’t think your friend hid down here.” 

“Yes, I think you’re right.” He turned toward her, and she saw that he was bleeding from a cut on his cheek. She pulled off her gauntlet, and reached up to wipe away the blood with her thumb. It smeared, and she rubbed at it with her fingers, suddenly self-conscious. “You’re … you’re injured,” she said, stating the obvious. 

He put his hand over hers, his fingers curling gently around her hand. “It’s just a scratch.” Something in the way he held her gaze made her breath catch in her throat, and not just from the exertion of the battle. His eyes. In this light, they were dark, almost black, and a network of tiny, fine lines stretched out at their corners. She’d never noticed that before, and they looked odd on a man his age. He wasn’t nearly old enough for such wrinkles. 

What had his life been like in the Free Marches? Or perhaps it was returning here, to Amaranthine, to find his home and family destroyed, that had aged him before his time. She felt a hitch in her stomach, some emotion she couldn’t name - or perhaps she simply didn’t want to name it - something that made her heart ache. 

“What about you?” he asked, concern in his voice as he released his hold on her hand. “Are you wounded?” 

She shook her head to clear it. “Yes, but it’s not bad. One of them stabbed beneath my shoulder, but I can hardly feel it.” That much was true; enough adrenaline was coursing through her that she felt almost no pain at all. This would change, no doubt, soon enough, but for now she felt fine. Good, even. Strong and alert, and just a bit excited. 

“Let me have a look.” He stepped behind her, and she felt the pressure of his fingers as they gently probed the area around the wound. “It looks fairly deep, but it isn’t bleeding much. Perhaps we should bandage it?” Even through the leather armor, she was aware of the way his palms lay flat on her shoulders.

“No, it’s fine for now. Let’s keep going. Before time runs out for your friend.” 

More rooms - storage rooms, mostly, but one that appeared to be some sort of office, and then more stairs leading downward, and finally they found themselves in a square stone tunnel that led out of the Vigil itself, and into what appeared to be a natural tunnel. It was reminiscent of the Deep Roads, and here Ankha could sense darkspawn taint, but it felt far away, not close enough to be of concern. 

Flickering torches lit the tunnel, causing the shadows to dance and move, and a figure stood at the far end of the chamber. Before Ankha could say anything, Nathaniel hurried forward. 

“Adria, is that you? Oh, thank the Maker, Adria …” 

It was, indeed, a woman. She had her back turned toward them, but she wore a noblewoman’s gown - purple colored silk, with salmon and maroon trim. Beyond her stood two men. 

Something was wrong, though. Their posture was stooped, and even with their faces hidden in shadow, it was obvious the men were no longer human. 

More ghouls. 

But what of Adria? She hadn’t moved at all. Perhaps she was fine, perhaps she was merely terrified at the monsters who surrounded her.

Perhaps. 

“Adria?” Nathaniel’s voice was ragged and desperate, and he stopped before he made it to her side, as if he knew something wasn’t right.

She began to turn toward them, slowly but with movements that seemed uncontrolled and jerky. When she stopped, her face was still in shadow, but even so the discoloration of her skin was apparent. She remained silent, her eyes glittering as she stared at Nathaniel.

“No, Adria.” Clearly, Nathaniel had seen the signs of taint. “Oh, Adria, no.”

When Ankha stepped beside him, he turned to her. “There’s got to be something we can do for her. We have to help her, there must be some way.” 

“She’s been tainted,” Ankha began. “If we can get her to Varel, it’s possible a Joining ritual might save her, but only if the taint hasn’t already spread too far.” 

“Adria,” he said. “Did you hear that. I’m a Grey Warden now, and we can help you. Please, come with us.”

Adria took a step forward, into the light, and Ankha saw immediately that it was far too late. The woman’s face was blistered with taint, the skin dark and bruised and tattered. She opened her mouth wider than should have been possible, and hissed with an inhuman menace. 

Ankha took a step back. “I’m sorry Nathaniel. I don’t think-“

“Don’t! Don’t stay it,” he barked. “I can see for myself. Please. Just … let’s get this over with quickly. Please.” 

The battle was surprisingly painless. Nathaniel took care of the men with his bow, while Ankha positioned herself in a way that hopefully blocked Nathaniel from being able to see the blade of her sword enter the body of his friend. Adria had been no warrior in life, and the taint had not granted her any particular powers. She collapsed to the ground after a single well-placed blow. 

Nathaniel dropped to his knees, and cradled Adria in his arms. She looked up at him, and reached out her hand, and for a moment Ankha feared she would strike out at him, or claw him with her fingernails. But she merely reached up and cupped his cheek, a trembling smile on her lips. 

“Nathaniel,” she rasped. “My brave boy’s come home.” 

“I’m here, Adria. I’m here. I’ll take care of you now, like you always took care of me.” 

“I know you will.” Her head lolled back as the life left her body, and Nathaniel shifted to cradle her more tightly against his body. He lapsed into silence, his face like stone and his eyes bright with unshed tears. 

Ankha knelt beside him, uncertain of what to do, how to comfort him. Heat rose behind her own eyes, and she blinked it away. 

“Nathaniel …” Tentatively, she reached out, and place her hand on his arm. He tensed, but didn’t pull away. 

“Adria was … My mother was not … well, you knew her. My mother was not warm or particularly caring.” 

That was an understatement. Arlessa Howe had frightened Ankha when she was small, with her cold stares and pursed, unhappy lips. Later, as a young adult, Ankha could feel distain rolling off the arlessa in waves, and had done what she could to keep from interacting with her in any way. 

Nathaniel continued, “Adria was always there for us. For my brother and sister and I. She snuck us sweets, and tended our scraped knees. She combed through my hair when I’d gone swimming in the sea, and came home with it in tangles. And when I was small, she sang to me.” Ankha was reminded of Nan, who had often sung songs for her at bedtime. A tear escaped her eye, and she wiped it away as it began to roll slowly down her cheek. 

“If only I’d been here,” he continued, “I could have helped her. I should have been here for her, as she was always there for me …” 

“No.” Ankha’s voice was firm, and put a gentle pressure on his arm. “No, Nathaniel. You can’t think like that. There is nothing you could have done. The darkspawn come out of nowhere, and corrupt everything they touch. This is not your fault. Mourn her, yes. And tomorrow we’ll build a proper pyre so you can say goodbye. But don’t blame yourself for this. Please.” 

He held her gaze, his eyes narrowed. There was tension in his jaw, and one of the muscles in his cheek twitched, and she wasn’t certain if he was holding himself back from responding. Finally, he let out a breath, and allowed his shoulders to slump. 

“Perhaps you’re right.”  

She’d never seen him like this before. Vulnerable. Open. He’d always seemed so strong, but perhaps, even years ago, that had been an act put on for show? Ankha’s relationship with her mother - with both her parents - had always sustained her. To think that Nathaniel had never had that from his own mother - and was now facing the reality of what his father had become - must be awful to endure. 

“Promise me we’ll give her a pyre. Promise me her ashes. I know where she would want them scattered.” 

Ankha nodded solemnly. 

Nathaniel looked down at Adria’s bruised, blistered face. He reached down to smooth her hair, and then gently lifted her head from his lap. Carefully, respectfully, he arranged her body on the cold stone floor, crossing her arms in front of her chest and running his palm across her eyelids, to close them. Then he stood, his back to Ankha as he scrubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, as though wanting to banish his grief. When he turned toward her, his features were settled into a stoic mask, all his defenses back in place.

“Let’s do what we came down here to do,” Anhka urged. “See if there’s anything that your father left behind.” 

“Anything you say, Commander.” 

‹›‹O›‹›


	3. Chapter 3

‹›‹O›‹›

Ankha mostly hung back, and allowed Nathaniel to search. She didn’t want to invade his space after the loss he had suffered. In he end, he did find correspondence. A pair of letters in the wine cellar. He seemed in no hurry to read them, though. 

“Would you prefer to have some privacy?” Ankha asked. “When you read them?” At worst, he might destroy the letters before she had a chance to read them, in which case she’d know it was something about his father he didn’t want to see the light of day. At this point, after what they’d encountered here in the lower parts of the Vigil, she found herself not quite as adamant about needing to know the “truth.” She knew the truth in her heart; additional details wouldn’t change things, or bring back the people she loved. Nor would they bring back Nathaniel’s loved ones, or soothe any of his pain.

“I …” He closed his eyes, and let out a breath slowly through his nose. “This was what I wanted. But now that I’m here, now I have these missives in my hands, I am not certain this was a good idea. I don’t know if I should read them. I’m not sure I want to know.” 

“Then given them to me.” Ankha stretched out her hand. “I’ll read them, and tell you what they say. Or we can do this together.” 

“Together?” 

“I’ll read them out loud. We’ll hear it at the same time. Together.” 

“All right. That sounds … good.” He handed her the letters. 

A cold feeling fluttered in her belly when her fingers touched the cool parchment. Nathaniel wasn’t the only one unsure that this was a good idea. Would learning what was in those letters prove beneficial to anyone? It seemed that, no matter what they contained, there would only be more pain. Nathaniel’s pain, if they offered him proof that his father had done this monstrous thing deliberately. And what if there was some evidence of her father having dealings with Orlais? 

No. That wasn’t possible. Her father could not have plotted to betray Ferelden. 

_But what if he had?_

Well, she would know soon enough, one way or the other. Because she’d promised Nathaniel, and now was the time to make good on that promise. 

She unfolded the first sheet of parchment, and, with a deep breath, began to read aloud. 

“ _My lord Howe, Some of the men are not pleased with your plan. They will incite others against you. For the plan to succeed, our forces must be united. If word gets out, if even one of them informs_ -“ 

She stopped, as her eyes took in the next word. Oh, Maker. This is what she had expected, what she’d hoped to find. Except now that the words were in front of her, she realized she hadn’t wanted this at all. Hadn’t expected it. Didn’t want to know.

“Ankha?” 

She shook her head, to clear it. She could do this. If nothing else, she owed it to Nathaniel. He deserved to know. 

“ _If word gets out, if even one of them informs Cousland, it will be your head on a plate. I say this with all due respect, ser. Your captain, Lowan_.” 

Oh, Maker. Of course she already knew he’d betrayed her father, betrayed her entire family. But seeing it written out like this on parchment. Seeing her family name. Cousland. 

And it wasn’t just Howe. Other people knew. Other people knew about this, and no one tried to stop it. Yes, no doubt they were all Howe’s soldiers, dependent on him for their lives. But still. If even one person - just one - had been strong enough to break the silence. Her parents might be alive. Her nephew. Sweet, darling Oren might still be alive. 

She closed her eyes, forcing back the tears that welled up. Then she remembered that she wasn’t the only one likely to find this information disturbing. 

She opened her eyes. Nathaniel stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest, his expression blank, but his eyes … there was something about his eyes that terrified her, and made her heart break. 

“Nathaniel?” 

“Read the other one.”

“What?” 

“The other letter in your hand. Read it.” His tone was dark, and uncompromising. 

For a moment, she considered refusing - why continue to flog this particular horse’s corpse? But looking at him, the way his shoulders tensed, the tightness of the muscles in his jaw, she realized he needed this. Needed to get through this. This must be much worse for him than it was for her. After all, this was nothing new. Only a reminder of past pain. But for Nathaniel? This was shattering everything he had wanted to believe about his father, things he had spend his whole life believing. 

She unfolded the second letter. 

“ _Lowan, we cannot afford an insurrection. Put any troublemakers in chains. Do whatever it takes to weed them out. Whatever it takes, Lowan. Do not fail me. Arl Rendon Howe.”_

Nathaniel’s expression looked as though it was etched in stone now, his lips thin, his eyes cold and hard. His hands were clenched into fists, and Ankha felt a thrill of fear. What if he struck out at her? What if he thought he could restore his father’s reputation by killing her, and lying about what they’d found? 

No. That was ridiculous. Nathaniel was many things, but he was not a monster. Not like his father had been. And surely, now that Nathaniel knew the truth … 

“Nathaniel.” She reached out and touched his arm. 

He flinched and pulled away. “Don’t. Just … don’t.” He drew up his lip in a sneer, but then forced himself to relax; she could see him struggle against himself. “Please,” he added, his voice breathy and broken. “Let’s just go back upstairs. I’m ready to be done with this.” 

‹›‹O›‹›


	4. Chapter 4

‹›‹O›‹›

For the next two days, Anhka busied herself with tasks at the Vigil. This was easy enough to do; there was no lack of things to be done, people to be seen, monies to be paid out of a quickly dwindling fund. She argued amiably with the dwarves about which repairs should be done first, and where on the grounds explosives could be tested. She discussed funding these repairs with Mistress Woolsey, who had ideas about where additional monies could be found. She wrote a report to send to the First Warden in Weisshaupt, struggling to sound neither antagonistic nor overly cooperative. And she plastered a smile on her face while the vassals of Amaranthine swore fealty to their new arlessa. 

All the while, she avoided Nathaniel, which had proved very easy to do. The morning after their trip into the dungeons, she had wanted to talk to him, check in to see how he was adjusting, and handling the revelation in those letters. But his body language had made it clear he wanted as little to do with Ankha as possible, so she kept her distance, even though her feelings were hurt by it. She understood why he had retreated; not only had he witnessed the corruption and death of a woman who had been dear to him, but he now had proof of just how far his own father had fallen. She could hardly blame him for wanting to withdraw. 

But at the same time, she felt anxious. Wounded, almost, by his withdrawal. She thought they’d shared … something, in those dimly lit chambers. Fighting side by side. Facing all the things they had faced, together. And perhaps she felt a connection with him because of the history they shared. Even though they’d never been close as children, they had known one another. Other than Fergus, Ankha had no one, no one at all, left from the time … before, and she thought there might be comfort in forging some sort of friendship with Nathaniel. Surely, he was in the same position. If anything, he was even more alone than Ankha. 

There was something else, too. Something she wasn’t sure she was ready to admit, even to herself. But she found herself wishing for … well, she didn’t know what exactly. Just that she wanted to be near him. She tried not to think about it, tried not to think about him, but when she lay in bed at night, sleepless and running from her nightmares, it was his face that came into her mind. The fine web of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. The curve of his nose. The shape of his lips. The echo of his voice in her ears, smoky and raw. The way he moved as they’d fought side by side in the dungeons beneath the Vigil, an appealing combination of grace and power. The warmth of his skin when she’d reached up to touch his face. 

She wondered how his breath would feel against her skin. Imagined his voice whispering her name close to her ear. 

No. 

She didn’t have time for such foolishness. Sometimes at night, she allowed herself to dwell on these thoughts, but not now. Not in the light of day. Nathaniel had made it clear he barely wanted to speak to her. Certainly there was no hope he would want anything more, so why even allow herself to wonder?

After arranging with Wade to have new armor made for her soldiers - well, after arranging it with Herren, really; Wade did little but complain about how dull it was to outfit common soldiers - Ankha needed some time to herself. Time to be alone with her thoughts, somewhere she was unlikely to be disturbed by Varel or Garevel or any of her Wardens. Without a word to anyone, she went upstairs, and then out one of the upper doors onto the battlements, where she’d fought the talking darkspawn. 

Maker, that had been disturbing, and probably deserved further thought at some point. How was such a thing even possible? Darkspawn were supposed to be mindless creatures, only able to be commanded when an archdemon was active. Certainly, all the darkspawn she’d fought during the Blight fit that description. This was something new. Something new, and almost certainly very, very bad. 

But she didn’t want to think about it now. Right now, she didn’t want to think about much of anything. So she pushed those thoughts out of her mind as she walked out onto the curved platform where Varel had been held with a sword to his throat. 

“I didn’t think anyone else ever came up here.” 

Ankha whirled around in the direction of the voice. Nathaniel sat on a ledge up against one of the keep’s walls  slightly hidden from view, which is why she hadn’t seen him when she first arrived. 

“Oh. I … I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were out here. I’ll . . I’ll go.” 

“Why?” His voice sounded tired. 

“Well, it sounds as thought you came up here expecting to be alone, I don’t want to disturb you.” 

He scoffed. “Thanks for your concern. It’s not necessary, though. Unless of course, you want to be alone yourself, in which case, yes, I suppose this space is already taken. Although I’d be happy to leave if that would please you.” 

Just what was that supposed to mean? Something about his tone annoyed her.

“You don’t have to do anything to ‘please’ me, Nathaniel,” she snapped, and then regretted her harsh tone. No doubt, the past few days had been difficult for him, and he was just trying to work through things in his own way. Even so, she didn’t deserve rudeness; all she’d tried to do was help. Either way, she was in no mood for an argument. ”You stay,” she said, her voice calmer. “You were here first.” She turned, and started back in the other direction. 

“Anhka. Wait.” 

She stopped walking, but didn’t turn to face him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to drive you off. Come back. Please.” 

Now, she turned. Something about his posture made her heart ache. He sat on a ledge, his legs hanging loosely, his shoulders slightly stooped. He looked … defeated, almost. The set of his shoulders, the way the corners of his lips turned slightly down. The way one of his fingers worried at a hole in the leather of his breeches. 

Her annoyance evaporated. She crossed the distance, and hopped up on the ledge beside him. 

“So, why did you come out here?” His voice was quiet, his eyes focused on the landscape below. 

“To be alone. I’ve been talking to people all day long, and I wanted a few minutes of quiet.” 

“Same here. Well, except I haven’t talked to anyone today, not really. One of the perks of not being in charge.” 

She almost laughed. “I suppose you’re right. And now neither of us are getting what we came for.” 

“I’m getting used to that. Lately, my life has been a series of events that weren’t ‘what I came for’.” 

“Yes. For you and me both. I certainly never expected to end up here, not like this.” 

He chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. “I doubt anyone could have expected being here under these circumstances less than I did.” 

“True.” If things had gone as expected, he’d be the arl now, instead of a Grey Warden struggling through the disgrace of his family name. “We’ve both lost a lot, haven’t we?” 

“At least you get to remember them in a good light.” His voice was harsh, but almost immediately he shook his head, and let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. That was an awful thing for me to say. Can we pretend I didn’t?” 

“I suppose so.” She paused. “But you’re not wrong.” Nathaniel’s eyes darted to her face. “I’ve thought a lot about it,” she shrugged. “About how I would feel right now if we’d found something else. Evidence that my father intended to betray Ferelden. I would have been devastated. Knowing my father wasn’t the person I believed him to be, that there’d been a whole side of him I knew nothing about. I would have felt like huge chunks of my life had been a lie. And I can only imagine how hard it must be for you, to be in that situation.” 

Nathaniel stared at her, his eyes narrowed. He looked angry, almost. “I don’t understand how it happened. How he went from being the father I remember to … to being the sort of person who could do what he did. Curse him and his idiot ambition. He lost everything for us, didn’t he?” A sound very like a growl erupted from his throat. “Bah. I don’t want to think about that right now. Or ever, really.” 

Ankha followed his gaze down to the courtyard below. There, people were going about their business. A pair of guards relaxed against a wall. One of the Glavonik brothers hunched over a parchment, scribbling notes. Wade and Herren argued as they left the marketplace for the evening. A small tabby cat darted across the path, and disappeared through a crack in the wall. 

“It all looks so normal,” he said. “It makes me angry, almost, to see people going on with their lives as though none of this ever happened. Then again, I suppose it didn’t happen to them.” 

“The Blight happened to all of us,” Ankha said, trying to keep her tone gentle. Surely, Nathaniel deserved at least a short while of feeling sorry for himself, but it would also be good for him to remember that he wasn’t the only one who had suffered. “I don’t know a single person here who didn’t lose someone they loved.”

Nathaniel glanced over, and met her eyes. After a moment, he shrugged, as if conceding the point.

Again, he stared down over the courtyard.

“How did you do it?” His voice was little more than a whisper.

“Do what?” 

“Stop thinking about it, all the time, every day?” 

“What gives you the idea I don’t think about them every day?” Again, his eyes darted to her face, his brow creased and a deep frown on his lips.  But she shrugged. “It does get easier though, although I didn’t do anything to make that happen. It just … happened. After enough time had passed, I realized I didn’t think about them every minute of every day. The sick feeling in my stomach went away, at least some of the time. It helped that there was always something to do. Fighting darkspawn, chasing down Grey Warden allies.” 

“Well, I’ll look forward to keeping busy, then.” He shifted his weight on the ledge. “Look, I … I owe you an apology.” 

“Just the one?” When his eyes flashed angrily, she winked, hoping to take away some of the sting of her comment. 

“I suppose I deserved that,” he said. “Look, when I returned from the Free Marches, I was certain my family was destroyed for being on the wrong side of the war. But now I see that my father did it to himself. No conspiracies, just one stupid, selfish man. I should have known better.”

“How could you have known? You were gone for years, Nathaniel.”

‘That’s no excuse. I should have dug deeper before I acted. I was an idiot, and like a child I blamed you and the Wardens. And if I’d been successful in what I wanted to do, I might have … done something unforgivable. To you. And that scares me, more than anything else. That I might have hurt you, and never even known how wrong I was.” 

Her breath caught in her chest, but she didn’t respond. 

He turned to look at her. His eyes, hooded and dark in the fading twilight, studied her face. “You aren’t at all what I expected.” She waited for him to explain what he meant. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, in a gesture that seemed to be unconscious. He took a breath as though he intended to say something else, but then he looked away, out over the plains that stretched beyond the walls of the Vigil.

She wanted to reach out to him, to touch him, make some contact, but she held back. 

In silence they watched the sun slip the rest of the way past the horizon. 

‹›‹O›‹› 

 


	5. Chapter 5

‹›‹O›‹› 

Another nightmare.

Ankha awoke to the smell of smoke, and wondered for a moment if the Vigil was on fire. But everything was quiet, and calm, and the only smoke had been in her dream: the Denerim marketplace burning to the ground, swarms of darkspawn and ogres coming at her from every angle. At least this time the nightmares weren’t tormenting her with visions of the future; this dream was firmly rooted in the past.

Again, she felt restless. Peering out the window, she could see that the moon had not set, and she could hear the quiet clink of armor of the men at arms on night’s watch on the grounds below. Blast. She’d not slept long at all, perhaps only an hour. The guard had yet to change for midnight watch. She would need to find a way to get back to sleep, but not yet. She was … restless. Her nerves wound tight.

But why? Was it the dream? As dreams about the darkspawn went, this one had been reasonably tame.

No, it wasn’t the darkspawn. It was something else. His face appeared in her mind. His profile as he stared down over the courtyard. The hunch of his shoulders. The shiver she’d felt hearing the deep rasp of his voice.

 _Nathaniel_.

She didn’t want to think about him. Certainly not this way. Not in a way that made her heart beat faster, made her breath speed up. In a way that caused something like an emptiness in her stomach, and tingling in her limbs, and made her want to run and run and run to calm her nerves.

_No._

This was _ridiculous_.

She pushed herself up out of bed, and slid her feet into her slippers. She would just go … do what?

Tea. Tea was always a good idea.

Except that wasn’t what she really wanted. What she wanted was to talk to him.

_Yes. Just talk_ _to him._

They were going to have to work together for the foreseeable future (why had she thought making him a Grey Warden was a good idea?), and she needed to be done with all this worrying. She’d go talk to him, and it would be clear that he didn’t think of her in that way, and she could put this foolishness behind her.

She couldn’t be bothered getting dressed again, so she slipped on her robe and her slippers. Then, with a lantern in hand, she pulled open the door to her bedroom.

“Oh-“

“What-“

Ankha and Nathaniel spoke simultaneously.The light flickered, as the lantern shook in Ankha’s hand, and Nathanieltook a step back.

“What?” Ankha repeated. “What … Nathaniel, what are you doing here?”

“I … Forgive me, I was just about to knock, when you opened the door.”

Ankha let out a nervous breath. “Oh. And I was just …” Oh. Maybe she didn’t want to admit that. “Uh … why are you here?”

His face was turned toward the floor, but he looked up at her with his eyes. It was a humble, almost penitent sort of posture. “May I come in?”

“All right. I mean, yes … of course.” She stepped back so he had room to pass by, and then closed the door behind him.

“There’s something I want to say. Things I probably should have said earlier, when I made that half-assed apology.” He looked at her face, but then averted his eyes. “I, well, I was wrong. About a lot of things, but mostly about you.”

He paused, but Ankha wasn’t sure how to respond.

Finally, he broke the silence. “I don’t know how it happened, how my father became … what he became. But clearly, he wasn’t the man I used to know.” Now, Nathaniel lifted his eyes to meet hers. “And I don’t blame you for what you did. You were right to do it. After what he did to your family.” He closed his eyes for a brief moment. “And I’m sorry for things I said. I … I’m not sure where to go next, though.”

“Go? What do you mean? You want to leave?”

“No. No! I didn’t mean it like that. I meant I don’t know where to go with … you.”

Her breath caught in her chest. “With me? I … I don’t understand.”

“Ankha.” He took a breath, as though preparing to say something more, but then his lips fell shut, and he turned away from her, just slightly but enough that she felt abandoned, somehow.

“Nathaniel?” There was a note of pleading in her tone, and she chided herself for it. Whatever was going on in his head, she would certainly not beg. Not for his thoughts, not for him to stay - if leaving was what he wanted, he could go. Let him figure out the Grey Warden secrets on his own, if he was so determined to be away from here.

Away from _her_.

“Nathaniel?” This time, her voice had an edge to it, just slightly, but enough that it made him flinch. “What are you talking about?”

He turned back to her, his eyes dark, almost haunted. “I remember when you were small.” He made a noise, something like a chuckle from deep in his chest. “You were such a funny little thing. I had the bruise for a month, after that time you kicked me in the shin.”

She shifted her weight from one hip to the other, and then back again, and forced back the urge to do it a second time. It was difficult to sit still while she waited for him to say whatever it is he wanted to say.

“But now? I didn’t come here for this. I came for revenge, for … closure. Something. But now …”

“What? Nathaniel, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The pleading tone had returned. She shifted her weight again.

“It’s you.” His voice was rough. “It’s you. I can’t get you out of my head. When I fall asleep at night, all I can see is your face. And I wake with your name on my lips, and I don’t understand it. I came here wanting to kill you. I hated you. But now … I know I’m the biggest fool to have ever lived, but here I am anyway. And I need to know. Please, just tell me that you want nothing to do with me. I need to hear it, just the once, and then I’ll be able to move on and stop being plagued by all these ridiculous feelings.”

What? He … what? Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

She looked into his eyes, and they burned from deep within. He looked haunted, tormented almost, and over what? Over … her?

She paused to take a breath, and stepped close to him. She clutched at his arm, and then pressed her lips to his.

His body tensed; his arm beneath her hand, and his lips, and she felt the breath catch in his chest.

Oh, Maker. This wasn’t what he wanted, after all. She didn’t know what he did want, but this must not be it.

She began to pull away, but he reached for her. His hands grasped her hips, and his lips came alive beneath hers. They were strong and supple and he kissed her with a passion unlike anything she’d experienced before. She’d been with men before, but never had any kiss felt like this. In the past, it had always been awkward and fumbling, but now Nathaniel ran his palms up the sides of her body, the heat seeping through the thin fabric of her nightclothes, and nothing had ever felt like this.

One of his hands continued upward, to cup the back of her head, as he pulled her even closer, his mouth moving hungrily upon hers. Their tongues met, and a small sound of pleasure escaped her throat, and Nathaniel’s fingers wound themselves in her hair.

Her arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, she could feel him through the layers of fabric between them, feel him hard against her belly, and a hot rush of desire flooded her, warming her cheeks, causing a flutter in her chest, and an ache between her legs.

She wanted him. She wanted him desperately, andBlessed Andrastehe wanted her too.

They pulled apart, and her eyes fluttered open to see him studying her face. The haunted look was gone, replaced by something brighter and warmer.

“Ankha?” Just one word, but she knew what he was asking.

“Yes.”

He bent at the knees, and, with one arm beneath her legs and the other behind her shoulders, swept her up off her feet, and carried her across the room. He laid her on the bed, and she propped herself up on her elbows and leaned up to kiss him. He met her lips for a brief moment, but didn’t join her on the bed. Instead, he pulled at the string that laced up his shirt, never looking away from her eyes. When the shirt was gone, he pulled off his boots, and then his trousers, until he wore nothing but his smalls. Ankha glanced down, taking in the breadth of his chest, his flat stomach, his well-muscled legs. Her eyes passed over the front of his smalls, the way he strained against the fabric, and her face grew warm.

Nathaniel lay down beside her, and took her face between his hands as he kissed her again. Ankha reached for him, and pulled him close. She needed to feel his body against hers, she burned to feel his skin on her skin, but she still wore her nightgown. She let go of him, but before she could reach to undo her robe, Nathaniel’s hands were on the belt that held it closed. He yanked open the knot, and urged her up, so he could push the robe off of her shoulders. Beneath it, she wore only a thin nightgown, its sheer fabric barely hiding the shape of her body.

He drew in a breath, as he looked down at her, and his hands slid across her shoulders, and then down, over her breasts. He cupped them in his palms and pressed his fingers into her flesh, and her breath caught in her chest. A thumb slid across her nipple, and she gasped at the burst of bright pleasure left in its wake. Chuckling, Nathaniel ran his thumb across her again, and leaned forward to claim her mouth.

She ran her hands across his skin. Across the taut expanse of his chest, and his arms, the muscles softly bulging. One of her hands stole down, Across his belly, over the coarse hair that grew there, and then further down, until she could feel him beneath her hand, still trapped by his small clothes. Her fingers curled to grasp him through the fabric, and he moaned, and drove his tongue deeper into her mouth.

She wanted him. Oh, Maker this felt so good and she wanted more. She wanted all of him.

Now, his hands moved downward to clutch at the fabric of her gown. She lifted her hips, so he could pull it out from under her, and up. He only broke away from the kiss when he pulled the gown over her head. Then, his hands reached for her small clothes, and he slid those off of her with ease. He wrapped his arms around her, palms flat against her back and eased her down gently, so she lay flat on the bed. He settled himself beside her, and his hand slid up her body, leaving a trail of heat where it passed.

He propped himself up on an elbow, and studied her face. His pupils were huge and dark, so dark they looked black in the dim light, and his hair hung down, the ends brushing against her shoulder.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured. “So very beautiful.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to disagree; she knew it wasn’t true. Her features were too sharp, the lines of her face too angular and abrupt. Her eyes too intense.

But she didn’t say the words. Something stopped her, something in his gaze. Something in the way his eyes traveled over her features, as though seeing her for the first time.

He believed what he’d said. He truly did find her beautiful.

For the first time in a long time, she believed it too.

He pressed his lips to hers, but when she tried to return the kiss, he slipped away. He kissed the corner of her mouth, and the edge of her jaw, and then left a series of soft kisses down her neck, and across her collarbone. His lips brushed against the top of her breast, and then across her nipple, his breath hot as flame against her skin. When his lips closed around her, a fire ignited in her belly. She arched her back, and moaned with pleasure.

With his lips and his tongue, he caressed her, and she reached down and wound her fingers in his hair. One of his hands slid lower. Down across her belly, to rest for a moment above her hip, and then continue along her thigh. He squeezed gently at her knee, and then moved up again, this time caressing the inside of her thigh. Ankha sighed, as his fingers slid upward, leaving a trail of bright pleasure behind, until they reached her curls. He ran his fingers through with a light touch, and she ached with need.

She turned toward him, resting on the edge of her hip, so her legs fell apart, wanting him to touch her more deeply. His hand stilled for the space of a breath, and a soft chuckle escaped from deep in his chest, but then he moved his mouth against her once more, and his fingers began to move again, this time more firmly, with more purpose.

He found his way into her heat, to the slick wetness at her core. When he slid a finger inside of her, her head fell back against the pillow, and she lifted her hips to meet him. His finger slid out, and then in again, even deeper, as his teeth gently grazed her hard nipple. Another moan left her throat, and it was all she could do to lay still on the bed. The heat coming off his body was warming her and making her yearn for so much more. She wanted to pull him on top of her, she wanted him inside of her, but she didn’t want him to stop doing what he was doing, because the way he was touching her right now was perfect.

He slid his fingers upward, over the spot that gave her the most pleasure, and she whimpered, and bucked her hips. As he continued to tease her nipple with his lips and his tongue, now his fingers began to move in slow circles.

“Yes,” she breathed. He stretched up now to kiss her lips again, while his fingers continued to circle, causing a fire in her belly, smoldering coals that began to glow now with heat. With each pass of his fingers the flame grew hotter, and she began to move her hips gently, in time with his motion, and he growled, deep in his chest, encouraging her.

She was close now, her climax building with each touch. She turned her face away, unable to focus on kissing him, but needing him not to stop, needing him to keep doing what he was doing. Needing him to touch her as the flame grew hotter and brighter and his fingers moved against her, and then she burst into flames, a conflagration that traveled outward, and up, burning white hot all through her body, and nothing had ever felt this good before, and still he was touching her, and her thighs pressed together, and she cried out as the climax blazed through her. Still, his fingers kept moving, and then it was too much and she tried to pull away, but he trapped her legs under one of his own and held her tight, and she thought she would faint from the pleasure. She whimpered again, a sound half pain and half pleasure, and his hand grew still. She went limp on the bed beneath him.

Then, his fingers made another circle, and again, the flame leapt upward, and she tried to pull away, but again he went still.

Once more he touched her, and once more she cried out, and this time, when she pulled away from him, he released his hold, and rested his face against her shoulder.

Ankha lay there, her fingers tangled in his hair, and waited for her heart to stop racing, for her breath to slow. A shudder went through her as one more wave of pleasure exploded. Nathaniel lay beside her, the length of his body pressed against hers, his breath warm against her neck. He ran his hand upward, slowly, over her belly, across her ribs, and over one of her breasts. He continued, up her neck, and then wound his fingers in her hair. He shifted position, and now his breath warmed her ear.

“I want you,” he whispered. “Please.”

Ankha turned her head, and caught his lips with her own. She kissed him, and then breathed her answer into his mouth.

“Yes.”

The hand that had curled itself into her hair now slid down to cradle her face. Again, he kissed her, with tenderness and passion in equal measure, and then he reached down and slipped out of his small clothes. He shifted himself on top of her, but did not lower himself all the way. Instead, he held himself up on his hands, as though afraid he would smother her if he put all his weight on her. His hair hung down, and brushed against her skin when he bent to bring his lips to hers. He kissed her, and she reached for him, the muscles in his arms tight under her palms. She could feel him, hard, pressing up against her. He broke away from the kiss, and, shifting his weight slightly, reached down and used a hand to guide himself inside of her.

Oh, Maker. Yes.

He felt so good, His warmth, the way he filled her so completely, the weight of his body above her. She moaned, from deep within her throat, and he growled in response, his breath hot against her ear. He slid back, and then thrust into her again; she whimpered with pleasure and wrapped her legs around him. Now he began to move slowly, again and again, rolling his hips in a steady rhythm. Her head fell to one side, and he kissed her neck, first just below her ear, and then his mouth strayed lower, his teeth scraping gently against her skin all the way down to where her neck and shoulder met.

Ankha began to move her hips, meeting him with each thrust, and he hit a place inside of her that sent a wave of sensation flooding through her. So very, very good. She ran her palms along his back, and down, over the curve of his arse. She dug her fingers into his flesh, pulling him closer, and he rode her faster, with more force than before. She could feel the fire inside her begin to smolder again, and she caught his lips with her own. They kissed, hungrily, and Nathaniel ran one of his hands along her body, down over her ribs, and across her hip, and then back up again. His hand slid all the way up her arm, until he twined her fingers between his own. He broke away from the kiss, and breathed her name.

Ankha tightened her fingers around his, clinging to him as they moved together. The flame burned more brightly now, and his body began to tense as he increased his speed. His pace set her on fire, and with each stroke, a small sound escaped her throat now, a desperate, almost keening sound. He gripped her hand more tightly, and thrust more deeply, and the heat inside her continued to build, and build, and then, almost unexpectedly, another climax took her, swallowing her up and sending her over the edge. Her legs tightened around him, and her hands pulled him close, and she cried out his name.

Nathaniel shuddered, his mouth finding hers again, and then he drove harder, and faster, until he too cried out, and with a final thrust, deeper than any before, he shuddered again, and collapsed on top of her, his fingers still entwined with her own.

For several minutes, they lay like that, her legs wrapped around him, his damp hair clinging to her shoulder, as their breathing returned to normal. Finally, he shifted his body. She moaned when he slid out of her, feeling the emptiness like a blow. But when he rolled onto his back, he pulled her along with him and she curled up contentedly against his chest, her hand reaching up to cling to his shoulder. He ran a hand through her hair, and lazily turned his head to place a kiss on her forehead.

“Once again,” he murmured, “that was not at all what I expected. I thought you would tell me to go. Laugh in my face, perhaps. I had hardly dared to dream you might want … this.”

“I thought the same thing,” she admitted. “A while ago, when I opened the door, and you were standing there? I was on my way to find you.”

“Were you really?”

“Yes. And just like you, I never expected this.”

She felt him chuckle. “I’ve never been so very glad to be wrong about something before.”

“I wonder …” she began, allowing her fingers to explore his skin, to press gently into the muscles of his chest, and then lower, across his belly, and then lower still.

“What?” His voice was lower pitched than usual. “What do you wonder, Ankha.”

“I wonder,” she said, as she took him in her hand, and felt him come alive under her touch, “if we might do it again.”

His laughter rumbled through her.

“Anything you say, Commander.” 

 ‹›‹O›‹›


End file.
